by Candace Robb
Owen looked to Lucie. She touched his arm and whispered, ‘I welcome the rest.’
‘We would be grateful,’ said Owen, thanking her for the generous offer.
Lucie slumped down on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to her forehead. ‘If Martin Wirthir had been there, and Jasper had seen him—’
Owen had been waiting for that. ‘Martin once saved our son’s life. He would never harm him.’
‘But what of Jasper’s pain? If Martin were the murderer … No. I give our son too little credit. He is a strong young man.’
‘He is.’ Owen sat down beside her, took her hand, kissed her cheek. ‘Danger is everywhere. I want only to protect all whom I love.’
Smoothing his hair from his forehead, she frowned at him, but he saw no anger in her blue-gray eyes. ‘I know. And I would never ask you to change.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And Jasper is so proud tonight.’ She pressed her hand to her heart. ‘So I will say no more about that.’
‘Come to bed, my love.’
TEN
Visitors and Intruders
Uncertain what woke him, Owen rubbed his scarred eye and sat up, belatedly noticing the shower of needle pricks. He rose, alarmed. Not by the sensation, but the portent – trouble was near. Moving to the window overlooking Davygate, he peered out at what he could see in the pale light of a winter dawn. More color in the sky, promising sunlight. A draught chilled him, but gentler than a few days earlier. Not much cooler than yesterday midday. More thawing, which meant the roads, though muddy, would be passable. The Nevilles might arrive at any time.
A sharp reminder of the portent set him in motion. He was dressed by the time Lucie woke to ask what was wrong.
‘Sleep, my love. I woke restless.’ He bent to kiss her forehead.
With a contented sigh she rolled over and snuggled beneath the covers.
Retrieving his leather patch from the shelf near the door, he positioned it over his ruined eye, ran his fingers through his hair, and stepped out onto the landing. Habit sent him to the next room. Empty. As he began to worry his mind caught up. The children had slept in the kitchen. He listened at the last door, heard voices, soft, two of them, Alisoun and Marian. Uncertain whether to interrupt, he decided as all appeared peaceful he would first go below, check the garden, the shop.
A fire already burned in the hall hearth, though the room was deserted. He crossed to the long garden window. A cacophony of drips masked all other sound, but he saw nothing obvious. He would make a slow circuit on his way to the apothecary.
A peal of laughter rang out from the kitchen. Hugh was awake and laughing. Loudly. God be thanked. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a cheery scene, Gwen and Hugh in a tickling match, his youngest watching in wonder from Magda’s lap. Emma squealed to see Owen, lifting up her arms to be picked up. He was happy to oblige, spinning her round and hugging her close as her giggle turned to hiccups.
‘Didst thou sleep?’ Magda asked, rising to stretch her back.
‘I did.’ Kissing Emma, he handed her back to Magda, crouched down to tickle Gwen and Hugh, raising the noise to a startling level, and, laughing, crossed over to the boot bench.
‘Ale?’ Kate asked from the hearth.
‘In a moment. I need the garden.’ Best she thought he was focused solely on emptying his bladder.
Gently rocking Emma, Magda perched beside him as he pulled on his boots.
‘Thou’rt worried, Bird-eye?’ she asked in a quiet voice, not easily overheard.
He met her gaze. ‘Trouble is nigh.’ His whisper became laughter as Emma grabbed at his hair.
‘Da!’
Magda tickled Emma’s chin as she said, ‘Thou hast a shower in thine eye?’
‘I do.’
A nod, and she rose to rejoin the children, Emma squealing her farewell.
Owen’s love for all he held so dear propelled him forward into the day. Booted, he threw on a cloak and stepped out into the muddy aftermath of the first snow and thaw. His boots squelched on the pathway that wound beneath the bare-limbed linden and through the tall rosemary shrubs shimmering with a film of ice. A startled bird darted up and away, another flew to the top of the wall, watching him with one eye. The needle pricks were fading out here. Perhaps whatever had threatened moved on. Not necessarily a good sign. A watcher was unwelcome. He should have thought to have one of his men walking a circuit round the house and shop. One of the bailiffs’ men. He supposed they, too, were his now. At the midden he relieved himself, then turned back, pausing to search for movement, his ears pricked. Nothing. But as he moved down the path leading to the shop, the shower of needle pricks intensified. Crossing with as little noise as possible by stepping on rotten vegetation at the side of the path rather than the bare mud that sucked at his boots he approached the back door opening onto the workshop. Stepping inside, he felt the prickling intensify and rushed through to the shop just as the door closed. Slamming it open he almost knocked Jasper over.
‘Da?’ Jasper had lifted his broom as if to use it as a pike. Now he lowered it with a sheepish grin. ‘You saw him, too?’
‘Who?’
‘A man standing among the graves, watching the shop and the house. Cloaked. Must have sensed me coming out. He’s gone now.’
Owen crossed over and climbed up the short wall into the graveyard, checking with Jasper until his son motioned he was on the spot. Muddy indentation. Poor prints, difficult to follow out. Across the way he hailed a lad pushing a cart toward the river. But the boy had seen nothing. Slogging back across the cemetery, Owen shook his head at Jasper’s questioning frown.
‘I lost him.’ Seeing how his son’s shoulders sagged with defeat, Owen put an arm round him. ‘You did well. I will arrange a watch, not just in the garden but out on the street.’ Noticing the lad had come out without a cloak, he turned him round. ‘Come and break your fast with me.’
Alisoun’s body ached from sleeping all night slumped on a hard bench against the cold wall of Marian’s bedchamber, made worse by her reluctance to stretch while Marian knelt at the bedside, hands folded in prayer. When at last the woman rose, Alisoun escorted her out to the midden. As they’d passed through the kitchen, Lucie and Magda were herding the children into the hall with bowls of bread and cheese and something steaming in a jug. Alisoun shook her head at Lucie’s curious glance – no, she had learned no more. A futile vigil.
‘We will be taking the children up to the nursery after they eat,’ said Lucie. ‘Kate will be grateful for some space.’
Kate made a face as she held the door open for the procession. ‘They are no trouble.’
Lucie kissed Kate’s cheek as she passed and called back to Alisoun and Marian to take their ease in the warm kitchen.
‘Dame Lucie treats the kitchen maid as if she were family,’ Marian noted with puzzlement once out in the garden.
‘It is their way. Kate’s elder sister worked here for a long while and is now wed to the steward at Dame Lucie’s manor – I should say young Hugh’s manor, when he comes of age,’ said Alisoun as they stepped out into the mild but damp winter morning.
‘Manor?’
‘Come along. My teeth will start chattering if we are not quick,’ Alisoun urged, picking up the pace to the end of the garden. She hugged herself and moved about as she waited for Marian. Just as she turned away to start back she caught a movement behind the wall. Holding up her hand to silence Marian, she listened. Nothing now. But it reminded her to be vigilant.
In the kitchen, Magda placed a jug of honeyed water and a bowl of bread and cheese on the edge of the bench Alisoun shared with Marian. ‘Thy fast is over,’ she said, gazing into the young woman’s eyes. Marian promised to eat.
‘Will you go to Muriel Swann today?’ Alisoun asked her teacher.
‘When Magda shepherds the little ones up to their chamber, she hands them into thy care.’ She bade them eat hearty and withdrew to the hall.
‘Dame Magda has a strong presence, a power,’ sa
id Marian.
Long ago Alisoun tried hard to resist that power. She smiled to think of it. Stubborn child.
‘You disagree?’
‘No. I am glad for you. That you have felt it.’ Breaking off a chunk of bread, Alisoun was just reaching for a piece of cheese when the door from the hall opened.
‘The precentor from the minster is here,’ said Lucie. She kept her voice low, but the tone was urgent. ‘He must not see Marian.’ She reached for a basket on the boot bench. Kate helped her place the food in the basket. ‘Go to Jasper’s rooms above the shop.’
Remembering her fleeting impression, Alisoun handed Marian one of Lucie’s cloaks. ‘Cover your hair,’ she told her.
Within moments they were outside, almost colliding with the captain and Jasper.
‘Where are you going?’ Owen demanded.
‘The precentor is in the hall,’ said Alisoun. ‘Dame Lucie thinks it safer that we come to the shop. Up above. To break our fast.’
‘Escort them,’ the captain told Jasper. ‘I will see to Master Adam.’
Alisoun touched the captain’s arm. ‘I sensed a watcher when we were at the midden. Hiding behind the wall.’
He glanced toward the end of the garden. Nodded. ‘Jasper saw one standing in the cemetery. Keep Dame Marian away from the windows.’
In the workshop, Marian stopped at one of the work tables, bending to smell the roots being cleaned, picking up a jar and sniffing the contents. ‘It is like Dame Justina’s corner in the infirmary.’
Jasper, who seemed unable to stop staring at Marian once she had pushed back her hood, stepped up to explain each item, going into detail about the ingredients, and which were from the garden. Embarrassed for him, Alisoun pushed past them and carried the basket of food and the jug of Magda’s honey water up to the guest room toward the front of the house, setting it all up on a small table. She had just stepped back into the workshop when a man’s voice called out from the shop, ‘Are you open?’
‘I must have forgotten to latch it,’ Jasper said softly. ‘Leave your boots down here and be as quiet as you can as you go up the steps.’
Alisoun drew Marian out of sight as Jasper stepped through the beaded curtain. ‘How might I help you?’
‘I need a salve for my horse. A new bit is chafing him.’
‘I have just the thing.’
The sound of Jasper moving the stool to climb to one of the higher shelves. Alisoun realized she was holding her breath. She reached for Marian as the woman began to wander and put a finger to her lips. Marian stood still.
‘Heard Captain Archer took in the minstrel’s lad,’ said a second voice. ‘Tossed a man off the minster roof, they say, then sang like an angel. A queer tale. True?’
‘I am an apprentice here in the apothecary. I know nothing of such things.’
‘Oh, but you’re Jasper de Melton, I think. The minstrel’s lover saved your life when you were just a slip of a boy, so they say.’
‘Be careful what you believe,’ said Jasper. ‘Here we are.’ A thud as he set the heavy jar down on the counter with more force than was his wont. He was angry. ‘A penny’s worth should be plenty.’
‘You’re a tight-lipped lad,’ said the first.
‘You will find that so for most of us in the city when strangers stick their noses where they don’t belong. You do have a penny?’
A muttered curse, the sound of a coin bouncing off the jar. And the door slammed shut.
Alisoun peered through the curtain. Jasper locked the door and hurried toward them. She stepped away just in time.
‘I heard.’ She touched his arm. ‘Who were they?’
‘Don’t know. I’ve not seen them before.’ He frowned. ‘You smile?’
‘You amazed me, Jasper de Melton.’ She kissed his cheek.
He grinned, pulled her close for a moment, kissing her back.
‘They are away,’ Marian called down.
‘Keep her from the window,’ said Jasper. ‘I need to tell the captain, describe their dress. Break your fasts up above – but do it in my bedchamber. It’s over this room not the shop. I must open the shop when I return.’ He kissed Alisoun’s hand. ‘Be safe,’ he whispered.
‘You, too.’ This odd life suited Jasper. And her.
After moving the table across the landing to the larger room, placing it near but not too near the window overlooking the garden, Alisoun and Marian eased down onto a bench, side by side, and stared out at the dreary winter drizzle for a moment.
‘You must be bursting with questions,’ said Alisoun.
It won her an unexpected smile as Marian turned toward her, straddling the bench.
‘That must have been easier in men’s clothing,’ Alisoun said.
A laugh. ‘I confess there were times I enjoyed it.’ Her smile transformed her face, her eyes dipping up at the corners, pale eyes twinkling, not unlike Magda’s. ‘But yes, I do have questions.’
‘While we break bread, I will tell you what I can.’
Marian nodded and bowed her head, whispering a prayer of thanks for the food. She glanced up at Alisoun’s Amen. ‘You are not a pagan, like your teacher.’
‘No.’ Alisoun helped herself to bread and cheese.
Marian poured some of Magda’s preparation into two bowls. Knowing what Magda had added, Alisoun set hers aside, wanting no unexpected bleeding while the captain and Dame Lucie needed her.
After a few bites of bread and cheese and more than a few sips of the honeyed water, Marian said, ‘I can tell that Jasper is worried I have brought trouble to your doorstep.’
‘Not you alone. Ambrose as well. But he knows that Captain Archer and Dame Lucie accepted the charge to hold you here.’
‘Jasper knows Master Ambrose.’
‘He knew his friend, who saved his life. I am not sure he knew Ambrose well.’
‘How did the monk know to bring me here? Master Ambrose meant to introduce me to the captain and Dame Lucie. Had he told the monk? Did he know I was in the chapter house?’
‘Ambrose had nothing to do with that. Brother Michaelo brought you here on the order of the precentor at the minster.’ She saw the woman’s doubt and could not blame her. ‘I can understand why you might wonder. But once you know more about this family you will see why both men had the same thought for your safety.’
‘And it is the precentor who is now at the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he guess my sex?’
‘No. But Brother Michaelo did, and judged it best to follow the order though he knew we had been nursing the children. Your secret is safe with all in this household, and the monk.’
‘Bless you.’ Again, that radiant smile. She had a delicate beauty, the fair hair and ivory skin, the slender wrists. But her voice had a strong resonance, throaty, much like Gwen’s, a reminder that a delicate appearance did not mean a weak mind.
‘You seem a devout woman,’ said Alisoun. ‘Companies of minstrels and players are not known for their piety. Did you travel with them for long?’
‘No. Not long.’ Marian drank down the honeyed water, took another bite of bread and cheese, swinging one leg as she chewed. She seemed at ease. Magda’s miracle potions. ‘And you? Have you always been Dame Magda’s apprentice?’
The thought made Alisoun smile. ‘No. And I count it one of God’s mysterious gifts that he convinced her to take me on – though Dame Magda would reject His part in it. And she did test me for a long while before fully trusting me. To see whether my desire to heal was sincere.’
‘How did she test you?’
Alisoun poured more of the drink for Marian while she considered what might encourage an equal sharing, as Magda had instructed her. Thou art close to her age. She might confide in thee as a friend. She had thought it would feel false, but Alisoun did feel a bond of some sort. Perhaps enumerating the tasks she had endured – companion to wealthy, much-spoiled young widows; runner of errands for a number of demanding elderly people; guard of Magd
a’s donkey when visiting patients outside the city; nursemaid to Gwenllian and Hugh, and later Emma as well from time to time. ‘But I admit I do love the three of them. And Dame Lucie and the captain have been good to me. Far kinder than I deserved.’
‘None of these seem unreasonable tasks for an apprentice. Why did you resent them? Because Dame Magda is a heathen?’
‘What she believes is of no concern to me. She encourages me to honor my beliefs. But I wanted to be a healer. I wanted her to teach me what she knows. I wanted to stay with her, follow her and learn by watching, and she pushed me away. Or so it seemed.’
‘You had a fierce knowing that this was your calling.’
‘I like how you phrased that. I did. I do. And you? Is your calling the convent or music?’
‘The convent? What did Dame Magda tell you?’
‘She said you liked Dom Jehannes’s suggestion that you would be most at ease at St Clement’s Priory. And you might have slept until I woke. Instead you knelt by your bed to pray before dawn. I thought perhaps you would choose a life of prayer if you could, closed off from the world.’ There was also the slip about Dame Justina’s infirmary.
Marian dropped her gaze to her bowl. ‘I am called to both music and a life dedicated to God,’ she said in a choked whisper.
Alisoun almost dare not breathe. Magda would say, Continue with them as thou hast begun. Do not stop at the fact that thou didst hope to hear. A deeper truth may follow. Listen as long as thou canst.
‘I have been inside only one nunnery, to help Dame Lucie deliver some of her physicks to the infirmarian at St Clement’s,’ said Alisoun, ‘so I have little experience with nuns. But traveling in a company of players does not seem a way to win their welcome.’
Marian met her gaze, her face a mask of grief. No sign of the smile now. ‘I did not choose to go wayfaring. I had chosen—’ She abruptly set the bowl aside. ‘I was ripped from a life that was my heart’s desire and left without hope.’
